Remember the Ones We Loved
by Sivlio
Summary: HP one-shot collection with a theme of remembering characters who died. Chapter Two: Harry tells George who the Marauders were.
1. The Deepest Desire of Severus Snape

Author's Note: To my faithful readers-I'm sorry I've been slacking! I will try to update my other stories soon. Life has been hectic, and add some writer's block to that and hopefully you can understand why I've been MIA. To my new readers-I hope you enjoy! You may have gathered that I'm not the most consistent author, but I'm planning this as a collection of HP one-shots, so hopefully the wait isn't as bad as with chaptered stories.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling.

**The Deepest Desire of Severus Snape**

Severus Snape put down his quill and looked up from his grading to glace at the clock. It was past midnight. He sighed, but coming from him the noise sounded more like an unpleasant rasp. He gathered up his students' less than satisfactory work and left his office, locking the door behind him. He fully intended to go straight to bed, but a now familiar impulse took over him. Snape willed it to go away—he had been giving into it much too often recently. Especially since that _boy _had come to Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he found his feet diverting him of their own accord. He soon found himself in front of door, quite unremarkable from its fellows. Yet, Snape knew that behind the door was something very special.

He looked down the hallway both ways to make sure no one would come upon him. As a professor, Snape was not subject to the scrutiny of students; however, if one of his colleagues discovered him there they would ask questions. Snape did not want them to know of his weakness. He pushed the door open and crept in silently. It was a classroom, disused and empty save for the ornate mirror placed against the back wall. Severus Snape was a clever man, and it had not taken him long to discover the mirror's power. Yet he could not prevent himself from falling under its spell.

He knew what he would see in the Mirror of Erised; he had seen it many times before. Still, he approached the mirror cautiously, both dreading and hoping it would not show him what he wanted to see. A face slowly formed before his eyes. It was a woman's face, with brilliant green eyes and fiery red hair. It was Lily Evans' face. Severus sank to his knees in front of the mirror, tossing the homework he had been grading aside. He pressed his hands to the cool glass of the mirror, wishing he could sink through it to be with her.

The sight of the woman he loved thrilled him. Here, through the mirror, he could be with Lily as he'd never been with her in life. And in the mirror was the only way he could set eyes on her again. He had never had photos, and if he'd had, he would have had to destroy them. Owning pictures of the mother of the Dark Lord's vanquisher would not have made him very popular with the Death Eaters. They would have made it impossible for him to turn spy and try to undo what he'd done.

The sight of the woman he loved tormented him. Whenever Snape visited the mirror, he was tortured with the thought that he could have prevented her death. He could have begged the Dark Lord for her life. He could have gone to Dumbledore sooner. He could have disposed of that worthless vermin Wormtail before he had the chance to betray the Potters. There were a hundred more things he could have done to save Lilly Evan's life, if only he had thought of it.

"Lily… Oh, Lily," Snape moaned. He buried his face in his hands and, though he did not weep, Severus Snape felt his soul breaking into even more pieces. He wondered how many more times he could endure this feeling before it destroyed him.

When he had gained something akin to his composure, Snape pulled his face out of his hands. He stared into Lily's eyes for a long time, watching her smile and wave at him. Finally, he gathered up the discarded parchment and pulled himself, with great difficulty, to his feet. When he turned to the door, there was someone standing in front of it.

"I did not expect to find you here, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said quietly.

Snape was too wounded to explain himself. He stared at Dumbledore without seeing him, his dark eyes showing more emotion than the old man had seen in many years.

"It is Lily, isn't it?" the headmaster asked wisely.

The potions master did not nod, but the slight jerk of his head was answer enough for Dumbledore.

"Severus, you must know the danger of this mirror."

Snape closed his eyes and bowed his head. "It's the only way I can see her, Albus."

"Yes… but it is tearing you apart." Dumbledore replied. "I came here tonight hoping to find another here, hoping to warn him against using the mirror. But it seems you too have fallen under its spell. How long have you been coming here, Severus?"

Snape shrugged. Then he felt compelled to ask, "Who else has been using it?"

"Her son," Dumbledore said, nodding to the mirror where Lily's image was only just still visible to Snape. "And I imagine he sees her too."

"With Potter," Snape spat, but it didn't have the same venom it usually did.

"Yes, I should think so."

"The boy didn't even know her, how can he justify—"

"Severus!" Dumbledore interrupted sharply. "You cannot judge what another sees in the mirror. I suggest that you stop coming here. Shortly I will have finished my work with the mirror, and it will be gone. You are a sensible man, Severus. Don't ruin your life by wondering what might have been."

"My life is already ruined," Snape returned and he tried to stride past Dumbledore.

The headmaster continued to bar the way. "That is not true, and you know it! You have done much to help us. If you continue to watch over Harry, I believe you will do even more good."

"Who says I've been watching over him?" Snape demanded. He pushed past Dumbledore again, and this time the old man let him through.

The next night, Dumbledore also warned Harry Potter of the mirror's power and of its inevitable disappearance. When Severus Snape went back to the classroom a week later, the Mirror of Erised was gone.


	2. Mischief Managed

AN: I'm taking requests for this story! Which character(s) who died, either before the series or during it, would you like me to write about? I have one more chapter planned and then I'll start writing requests :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!

**Mischief Managed**

"Have a good night!" George Weasley called to his last customers. "Mind you don't use that Fanged Frisbee at school, or Filch'll skin you."

The young boy who was carrying the Fanged Frisbee grinned widely at George, while his mother glowered. It was George who had suggested the Frisbee to her son in the first place, and she did not approve. Of course, it was hard to deter an elven year-old boy with his own money from buying dangerous or wicked things. George smiled to himself as he watched them leave, though it did not quiet reach his eyes, and locked the door behind them. He set about cleaning up the shop to close, when he heard a _tap _on the door.

"Sorry, mate, we're closed," he began, until he had a look at the person who'd knocked. "Blimey, Harry, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be off on some official Auror business?"

Harry laughed. "I was, but they tend to be understanding when your wife is eight and a half months pregnant."

"Has it really been that long?" George asked in surprise as he led Harry to the back of the store. He put the kettle on for tea while Harry took off his coat. "Can you just imagine me being an uncle?"

"You being an uncle, imagine me being a dad! I'll be glad when it's all over. Ginny being pregnant makes me a nervous wreck. I know it's crazy, but I'm terrified the baby is just going pop out while we're having dinner or something." The young men laughed.

"So, what brings you here?" George asked, though he thought he knew what the answer was.

Harry was silent for some time, trying to think of a delicate way to state his purpose. "It's been seven years, George."

George immediately looked away and busied himself with making tea, although Harry knew the kettle couldn't be ready yet.

"Ginny told me you've been spending this day alone for a few years now," Harry said quietly. "I just don't think that's right. You shouldn't be alone tonight."

"I didn't even notice I had been," George lied unconvincingly. "Just a lot to do in the shop, ya know?"

Harry shook his head as he accepted lukewarm tea from his friend. "You know your family gets together every year on this night. Why don't you join us?"

George pretended not to hear and tried to change the subject. "Harry, whatever happened to that map Fred and I gave you?" His voice faltered when he said his brother's name.

Harry sighed. He decided, for the moment, to oblige George if he wanted to avoid the anniversary of Fred's death. "It's put away with some of my other stuff from our Hogwarts years."

"Do you think you'll give it to your kid when he's old enough?"

Harry pondered that question seriously. On the one hand, the map had been very useful to him during his school years. On the other, he had used it to get in all sorts of trouble. "I don't know," he told George honestly. "It seems like if I did I'd be asking for him to get in trouble."

"Naw," George replied. "That map saved our skin more times that I can remember. Yours too."

"Suppose so…"

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs…" George said wistfully, sounding much like he had when he and Fred had first given Harry the map.

Harry gave a start at hearing those names again. It had been years since he'd thought of the map makers by those names, rather than their real names. Then again, he'd never actually told the twins what he had discovered about the map's origin all those years ago.

"George, there's something you should know about the map." Harry said slowly.

"What's that?"

"I know who made it."

George looked dumbstruck. "You do? When did you find out? Why haven't you told me before now?"

"Well, it's very…" Harry was going to say "personal," but now he realized that George had been almost as involved with the men who made the map as he had. He sighed. "I found out during my third year."

"That long ago! Gosh, mate, you knew how much Fred and I idolized them. Why didn't you tell us, eh?"

"Because it was my dad," Harry began. "My dad, Lupin, Sirius, and… and Pettigrew."

George sank down into an armchair and put his hand on his forehead. He was silent for some time before saying, "I never expected the Marauders to be people we knew. They were almost like… like characters in a book. Characters that Fred and I loved."

This was the most Harry had heard George say his brother's name in years. He decided he would tell George the whole story. He sat down on a stool opposite George to begin.

"They were Animagi, except for Lupin of course. When the others discovered Lupin was a werewolf, they decided to become unregistered Animagi so they could be with him when he transformed. Sirius was a dog, Pettigrew was a rat, and my dad was a stag. That's where the nicknames come from."

George nodded dumbly for a moment. "I wish Fred could have known," he said into his teacup.

"I reckon he does know," Harry replied. "They probably told him and had a good laugh about it."

This made George crack a small smile: his first genuine smile of the day. He wasn't sure if he could fully believe Harry's notion that the people who died never really left them, but it felt good to believe it now. "Yeah," he agreed. "I reckon they probably did."

The young men finished their tea in silence. When Harry had drained his cup, he stood to put his coat back on. "Well I'm off to the Burrow for the night," he announced. "Care to join me?" he added quietly.

George was staring into his teacup as though lost in thought, but Harry's question brought him back to earth. "I think I will." He nodded as the idea became more firm in his mind. "Fred wouldn't have wanted me to be all alone like this. He always liked to be around people when he was upset; said it'd make you forget your troubles for a while. I suppose Fred hardly ever worried about his troubles since he always had me…" He lapsed into silence again. Then, before Harry could react, George had marched across the room and pulled a traveling cloak over his bright purple work robes.

He quickly lit a fire in the hearth and threw some Floo Power into it. The fire burned a bright green. Before George stepped into it, he turned back to Harry. "Get a move on then!"

Harry hastily joined George at the hearth. Harry heard him say "the Burrow" as he grabbed some Floo Power for himself. He smiled and looked up, saying, "Thanks for the help, Fred." Then he followed his friend through the fire.


End file.
